


all we do is chase the day

by ithilien22



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Gen, fantasy-based racism, post-season 1 finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 23:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8228186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithilien22/pseuds/ithilien22
Summary: After they leave Camille's, Magnus goes home but he doesn't sleep.





	

After the day he's had - the wedding, _Alec_ , the attack, Camille, the shadowhunter boy disappearing with Valentine - by the time Magnus finally makes it back to his loft he's exhausted. His bones are aching, his mind is reeling, and his heart is (somehow) still racing. He pours himself a strong drink and steps out on his balcony to gaze down at the city below him. _They have no idea what's coming_ , he thinks somberly.

He's almost down to the last sip of his drink when he suddenly hears a faint sound from within the apartment of a few precise, sharp raps echoing off his door. He isn't expecting anyone, but hope blooms in his chest all the same. _Alexander_.

Unfortunately, when he makes his way back inside to answer the door, his unexpected visitor is not the Lightwood he's hoping to see.

"Maryse," he greets her coolly, not yet stepping aside to allow her entry. "I would ask to what I owe the pleasure, but well..."

Maryse regards him with the usual expression she seems to reserve just for him, a unpleasant mix of hostility and contempt.

"Name your price, Bane," she grits out, shoulders tense and voice clipped as if he's the one inconveniencing her with this conversation, rather than the other way around.

Magnus blinks at her.

"Generally I need to know what service I'll be performing first," he replies after a moment. "But in your case, I think it's safe to say my fee will be exorbitant regardless."

"Don't play coy with me, warlock," she retorts, rolling her eyes as she pushes past him and lets herself further into his loft. "You got my attention with your little display. So what is it that you want?"

Magnus lets the door close behind her with a sarcastically muttered, "oh do come in," and then turns to regard her where she stands in his den, looking entirely out of place. It's almost comical, until her words really start to sink in.

"You really don't see it, do you?" he finds himself asking, even though it's not really a question. He refuses to feel anything resembling pity for her, but he can't help the tiny bit of sadness that settles into his chest. _For Alexander's sake_ , he tells himself.

"And what is it that I'm meant to see?" she asks. "You seducing my son and using him to embarrass me in front of the Clave? Trust me Bane, I saw enough."

Magnus chuckles lightly, though there's no real humor to it.

"Of course you think this is about you," he says. "I'll admit, sometimes it does give me pause, the fact that he's a Lightwood. There was a time I would have been happy enough to think I'd never have to see another of your brood again in my considerably long lifetime."

Now it's Maryse's turn to laugh, a spiteful, ugly sound. "Oh, spare me, please. I know what you're doing and why. Just tell me your price!"

Magnus frowns and turns away from her, moving to pour himself another drink. He considers how easy it would be to simply deposit her outside of his wards and then go to bed.

"All these years, I've watched you prancing around with your latest toys, lording your magic over us - thinking that it makes you better than us," Maryse spits the words at his back, her voice rising with her anger. " _Warlocks_. We all know where the magic comes from. The only thing that separates you from the rest of the downworld is that warlocks are occasionally _useful_."

Magnus turns back around slowly and then waits another beat before raising his glass and taking a long pull. He's baiting her with his silence, and it's pettier than he generally likes to be, but he's willing to make the exception in Maryse's case.

"Careful," Magnus says finally, waiting until Maryse is just opening her mouth to undoubtedly continue her tirade. "You know who you sound like when you say things like that."

Maryse's jaw snaps shut but her eyes seem to flame even brighter with hatred. Magnus smiles crookedly.

"Besides, you've almost hurt my feelings," he adds, taking another sip of his drink.

"What. do. you. want?" Maryse asks again, enunciating each word for effect. Magnus rolls his eyes.

"I want to get to know your son," he tells her honestly, his exhaustion starting to catch up with him again. "That's all, Maryse. He is - very much _despite_ your influence, I'm sure - a really remarkable young man."

"You think I don't know that?" She seems more offended by this insinuation than by anything else he's said so far, and Magnus finds that he's actually pleasantly surprised by her reaction.

"I think you look at him and you see 'solider' before you see 'son'," Magnus replies. He downs the rest of his drink. "Or else you wouldn't have tried to force his hand with the Branwell girl."

"That was his idea! He understood what needed to be done!" Maryse returns hotly, before seeming to collect herself. "I don't have to explain my relationship with my son to you, Bane."

"Nor I mine to you," he says sweetly, tipping his empty glass to her before setting it back down on the drink cart. "Now, shall I see you out?"

Maryse stalks past him towards the door but pauses after she's flung it open to turn back to him.

"Alec is a sensitive boy," she says, quieter now and not quite meeting Magnus's gaze. "Ever since he was little, he-" she stops herself and shakes her head slightly - "I understand your... _distaste_ for me, for the Clave. But Alec wasn't a part of any of that."

She finally looks up at him and even though her expression is just as hard as ever, her eyes seem a little softer at the edges, pleading.

"Just leave him out of your games," she says. "Please."

"See, that's the difference between you and I," he tells her, bracing his hand against the door in preparation to close it. "I don't use the people I care for as bargaining chips."

Any glimpse of softness disappears from Maryse's features and she spins around abruptly, walking away from him without another word. Magnus watches her for a moment before shutting the door behind her.

Magnus retreats back into the den, collapsing into a well-worn chair and replaying the conversation over in his head. He imagines his old friend Ragnor, sitting in the chair across from him, laughing at him.

"What?" he asks Ragnor, a soft smile starting to play at his lips.

"When I told you that you would find love again, I didn't mean with the Lightwood boy," he says, shaking his head. "You do know how to make life interesting for yourself."

"Well," Magnus says with a shrug, affecting nonchalance, "I've never much seen the appeal of a dull life."

"It's a good look on you, you know?" Ragnor tells him, eyes twinkling. "Hope."

Magnus's expression sombers as he looks back towards the balcony, the dawn's light just starting to grace the city.

"It's not an easy road ahead of us," he murmurs.

Ragnor's small smile doesn't falter.

"It never is," he reminds Magnus softly.

Magnus thinks of the hatred he'd seen in Maryse's eyes, and how closely it had mirrored the look in Valentine's, just hours before.

Then he thinks of the look in Alexander's as he'd stepped down off the dais, right past his mother. He thinks of his giddy smile when they spoke afterwards, and the way he'd stuttered over the notion of being in love.

"No," he agrees, his voice echoing through the empty loft. "It's certainly never easy."

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading <3 now come cry about magnus with me some more on [tumblr](https://ithilien-writes.tumblr.com/)!


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